


Knowing That You'll Be Here

by DrNeverland



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coma, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Medical Procedures, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Pining, Possible Character Death, Post-Canon, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrNeverland/pseuds/DrNeverland
Summary: The ending has changed, but does the story change too? Does the hero of the story have to have a happily ever after, and does the villain need to be buried?499 years earlier...
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Barret Wallace
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some tweets from Illusioneery. <3

_ We all know why we are here. What the story is, was, what it had led to. Who tried to kill the Planet, and how he died. Who defeated him, keeping the virus within his heart at bay so that the Planet could defend itself from the Meteor above. _

_ We know how it began, and how it ended. _

_ But… _

_ What if things had changed? _ _  
_ _ What if… someone else survived the fall? _

_ What if… someone else… fell? _

“......I think I'm beginning to understand.” 

“What?”

“An answer from the Planet… the Promised Land...I think I can meet her...there.”

“Yeah, let's go meet her.”

Tifa dusted off her skirt as she got to her feet, scanning the crumbling cavern for signs of their friends. Cloud pulled himself up shortly after, giving the cavern another once-over.

“Hey, where is everyone?” he asked.

_ Cloud… _

Cloud jumped at the sound of his name being called; at the same time Barrett shouted to him and Tifa, getting their attention. The rest of the team was on various ledges, holding themselves steady, afraid to move too much to have the rocks split and cast them into the bubbling Mako below.

Tifa waved to Barrett and Cid. “I’m glad you’re all safe!”

Cid nodded, but turned to look up at the sheer rock face, where escape seemed hopeless.

“Oh, Lady Luck, don’t fail me now…”

_ Cloud… _

_ …come to me… _

Cloud spun around, looking at the rock walls, the ledges, the crumbling stone. The voice felt familiar, but it wasn’t  _ him,  _ calling out. Sephiroth’s spirit was destroyed, it had to be. There couldn’t be anyone else…

Cloud turned with his friends as the Highwind crashed through the cavern ceiling, plummeting towards them, Lady Luck emblazoned on the side as the machine wedged itself against the cavern wall where it seemed like rocks had fallen just in the right way to provide them a path to her.

“Everybody on board!” Cid shouted, leading the way to the airship.

Below, Holy’s light lit the burning Mako, and Cloud felt the voice in his head again.

_ Cloud… come to me…  _

_ …show me your memories…  _

_ …show me why…  _

_ …why I should spare these humans… _

“Cloud, c’mon!” Tifa shouted, climbing up the ledges toward the airship. She looked behind, not wanting him to leave her sight for long. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through.

Cloud had his back to her, staring down below.

“Why me? What do my memories have to do with the Planet now? Isn’t Aerith’s prayer strong enough…?” he murmured, his voice muted by the crumbling of stone.

_ She speaks of you in her prayers…  _

_ …I want to know you… Cloud… _

“CLOUD!” Tifa shouted again, but the sound was lost as more boulders started breaking apart, erasing the path between her and Cloud.

Looking up, Cloud turned toward Tifa, giving her a wry smile. Barrett and the others were shouting, waving their arms and urging him to follow. 

“I have to meet her.” He looked back toward the intense, growing light. “I’m sorry.”

To the sound of Tifa’s cries, Cloud Strife walked off the ledge and fell into the light below.

**_…Six months later…_ **

_ “Today, an announcement was made by director Reeve Tuesti, head of a new organization dubbing themselves W.R.O. - World Regenesis Organization - that the efforts to rebuild Midgar City will instead take a new path, in a push to drive toward a ‘new kind of hope,’ says Tuesti, and that he dubs the planned new city ‘Edge.’ Tuesti’s decision comes at reports of the Midgar area still being too dangerous for construction teams, as Mako leakages are still being discovered since the destruction of the Reactor there. Many people may recall Director Tuesti being a former member of the now-defunct Shin-Ra Corporation, a change he says, came to him during the Meteorfall Event...” _

Tifa shut off the news report just as they began to show a clip of Reeve’s announcement ceremony. She didn’t need to watch it again, she had been there when he gave the speech. She had been there while he wrote it, providing him coffee while he wrote draft after draft of his proposal. So many promises to keep, so much hope to foster, in the time when people needed it most.

Getting up from her bed, Tifa went downstairs to the rest of the house. Barrett stood from where he leaned on the kitchen counter, Marlene standing on a step-ladder to polish the top, just as she did in 7 th Heaven. They both looked at her with the same sort of surprise and pity she’d come to expect from them in the last six months, ever since Cloud threw himself into Holy’s light… and disappeared.

“Tifa, you’re up!” Marlene hopped off her step-ladder and ran over to Tifa, hugging one of her legs. “Papa said you might be sleeping in again today. I’m glad he was wrong.”

Tousling Marlene’s hair, Tifa gave the little girl a wan smile. “I’ve been sleeping a lot, I know. Have you been good for your Papa?”

“Uh-huh!” Marlene smiled and climbed up the steps again, sitting on the freshly polished counter. She pulled over her cleaning cloth and began scrubbing at a spot, glancing toward the two adults while pretending not to listen.

“How are you feeling?” asked Barrett. He came around the kitchenette, touching her shoulder gingerly.

Tifa wanted to hate him for treating her with kid gloves, but she knew that was wrong. Barrett had done all he could since they got out of Midgar to put them back on their feet - securing a place in Kalm, finding work helping with the rebuilding efforts and taking odd jobs in town as everything from a moving crew member to a monster hunter. Ever since Meteorfall, creatures had sprung up all over the world, highly displaced by the events and causing no end of trouble. For all he had done, Tifa was grateful for Barrett, keeping himself together while she grieved in her room.

“Good enough to come downstairs,” Tifa said, rubbing under her nose. “Is there anything to eat?” she said, starting to turn toward the kitchenette when Marlene hopped off the counter.

“I got it! We made you a sandwich! I was gonna take it up but then you got up so it’s here!” she said, pulling a plate, tented with foil, out of the fridge before Tifa could even get around Barrett.

“Thanks, munchkin. What would I ever do without you?” Tifa asked, leaning over to kiss Marlene’s forehead.

“Probably starve,” Marlene replied, turning to push her step ladder across the kitchenette to one of the low-hanging cabinets. “I’ll get you some juice!” she announced, climbing again to find Tifa a clean cup.

Tifa sighed and took her sandwich to the small living room, sitting on the couch. The TV was on downstairs as well, flicking through ads for various help services that had sprung to life in the wake of Meteorfall. Housing aid, relocation efforts, advertising to “join a hunting guild!” for the “adventure-hungry survivor of the end of the world!” Tifa sneered at the last ad, almost losing her weakened appetite. She was glad people were making change, real change, in the last few months, but it felt like a slap in the face, some days. Where had these people been before? Why couldn’t they have helped the Planet, too? Why had it been on  _ them  _ to save the world?

“Tifa? Tifa!” Barrett waved his hand in front of her face. “You, um… lost some sandwich.”

Snapping out of her spiraling thoughts, Tifa looked down. She had torn her sandwich in half without thinking, and a mustard-laden piece of deli meat laid on her tee shirt, leaving an unpleasant, yellow smear.

“Dammit…” she muttered, picking up the meat off her chest and eating it. “I was distracted.”

“I know.” Barrett sighed and sat beside her on the couch, making it sink further with his added bulk. “You want me to turn off the TV?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He placed his hand on her knee, squeezing gently. Even through the material of her pajama pants, Tifa could feel his callouses on her skin, and the warmth of contact brought her further into the present.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just…” Tifa put down her ripped sandwich and patted Barrett’s hand. “Bad thoughts, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s not a habit I like keeping.”

Tifa sighed and curled further up on the couch, leaning into Barrett’s side. “Neither do I. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’ve both lost a lot. I understand.”

Marlene came into the living room with a large cup of orange-colored juice and set it down on the battered coffee table in front of Tifa.

“Are we hugging now?” she asked, clamoring up to be between her father and Tifa.

“We can, kiddo,” Barrett said, pulling the pair of them in with his good arm. The other arm, what was left of it, no longer held the gun as a permanent attachment. Instead, a prosthetic substitute had been built for Barrett by Cid. It gave Barrett some semblance of normalcy, to just have an arm instead of having to carry a weapon all the time.

After a long embrace and a few shed tears, Tifa sat back and finished her meal. Nursing the cup of orange drink, she stared numbly at the TV as some form of entertainment or another danced across the screen for a couple of hours.

Barrett stretched his back and his spine gave a few pops of protest. “Dang, I’m getting old,” he muttered.

Marlene looked up from where she had fallen asleep between the pair of them. “Somethin’ smells like mustard…” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

Tifa looked down at her shirt, where the stain had dried into an off-yellow smudge. “Well, that would be me. I should probably throw this in the washer. Or the garbage.” Tifa tried to smile, but, going by the look on Barrett’s face, it wasn’t quite there. “I know how to get stains out of a shirt,” she muttered, looking down.

“Well, while you sort that out, I think someone’s gotta go to bed,” Barrett replied, scooping Marlene up one-handed.

“Nooooo… I wanna stay up…”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna be asleep all day tomorrow if you do…” said Barrett, already carrying her toward the stairs to the upper rooms.

Tifa watched them go, then leaned back on the couch, running her fingers through her hair. She felt grease and tangles as she combed through, chastising herself for letting it get this bad. She pulled out the loose scrunchie and re-tied it at the base of her neck, feeling better to have done something for herself.

“Maybe I should cut it…” she said to the empty room, pulling out a knot near the ends while absently watching a news report. Something about new gambling laws and Chocobo racing, a puff piece about how slum kids were being looked after by a dozen or more good Samaritans coming from Kalm… when one caught her attention. As the image of the Northern Crater appeared on the screen, Tifa reached for the remote and turned the volume up.

_ “...while the area remains under quarantine until W.R.O. officials give the okay to start excavating the area, sources say that a lone man was found near the base of the mountain, unconscious, and unresponsive to attempts to revive him on scene. While the man’s identity remains unknown, W.R.O. has stated the man’s body has been transported to an anonymous location, where he remains in round-the-clock critical care.” _

Tifa’s grunt of pain dissolved in the clatter of tumbling wood behind her as she stood quickly, hitting the coffee table so hard with her shin as to send it halfway toward the television. She scrambled to the kitchenette and grabbed the phone, pulling the receiver so hard from the wall, she nearly ripped the unit from the mount. Dialing a set of numbers, Tifa swore at Reeve’s answering service as the call went to voicemail. Slamming the phone down, she picked it back up to try dialing Reeve directly, finding that he didn’t answer there, either.

Barrett came downstairs, looking at Tifa like she were nuts. Maybe she was.

“The hell are you doing? Sounds like you’re tearing the house apart!”

Tifa hung up the phone with enough force to crack the plastic body and leaned on the kitchen counter, bracing herself with both hands and breathing heavy.

“I just saw on the news… the W.R.O. found an unconscious man at the Northern Crater. It has to be him!” Tifa said, looking at Barrett with stark desperation. “He might be in a coma… he might have Mako poisoning again… but Reeve’s not answering his goddamned phones!” she hissed, gripping the counter with such a flex as to make every muscle and sinew stand out across her shoulders. “Why didn’t he call me?”

Barrett slowly edged his way toward Tifa, gripping her wrist gingerly, easing her death grip off the counter. 

“Maybe he didn’t want to get your hopes up. What if he’s alive, but this time, he’s really gone? How are you gonna bring him back from that?” 

Tifa glared up at Barrett, her eyes red and wet. “I did it before. I fell into the Lifestream for him. I could bring him back again.”

“And if you couldn’t? You’d be losing him all over again. Can you really take that kind of hit again?” Barrett asked.

“I can take anything,” Tifa growled. “Where’s your PHS? I’m gonna call Cid.” She started rummaging through kitchen drawers, leaving them hanging open in her search.

“It’s upstairs,” Barrett murmured. “Can’t it wait?”

“Why? What if he’s dying? He’d want me to be there. He was there for me…”

“And what if it isn’t even Cloud? Did they actually show his face on TV? What if it was some unlucky bastard who got stuck near the crater before things went to shit?”

Tifa paused in her search to round on him, her messy ponytail sweeping behind her like it was alive. 

“Who the fuck would have been out there? Who was crazier than us to just  _ hang out _ where a bunch of Mako was pouring out of the Planet, Barrett? Who?”

Taking a deep breath, Barrett held his hands up in a placating gesture, to get her to lower her tone before Marlene woke up again.

“Don’t you think Reeve would have called, if it really was Cloud? Do you really think he’d hide that from you?”

Tifa looked away, rubbing at her wet eyes. “He’s hidden plenty from us before. Like that he was a spy for Shin-Ra.”

“And now he’s not. He’s one of us, Ti. You know he’d say something. Just… give him time to respond, awright? I don’t think he’s had a minute to himself since starting the Org.”

Tifa sniffled and nodded. Inching over from where she stood, Tifa edged her way into Barrett’s embrace, which he slowly closed around her.

“I just miss him so much… we were almost out of there… why? Why’d he jump?”

Barrett’s voice cracked as he replied, slowly rubbing her back with his good hand.

“Dunno… Guess we’ll never know…”

Tifa took a shuddering breath and started to sob into Barrett’s shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning found Tifa waking in Barrett’s bed, one of his overly large tees hanging off her frame as if she were a child. They had both cried late into the night, mourning the loss of Cloud. Tifa had been given one of Barrett’s shirts to sleep in when they were finally too tired to carry on, but Tifa had not wanted to be alone. Barrett’s bed was just big enough for the two of them, and Barrett warm enough that they had only needed a thin blanket to keep them comfortable during the night.

Making her way downstairs, Tifa rubbed her eyes, smelling coffee brewing before she heard it dribbling into the pot. Over the sound of boiling water, she made out Barrett’s voice as he spoke with someone else. Recognizing Reeve’s soft tone, Tifa rounded the corner to the kitchenette and saw both Reeve and Cid sitting at the counter, each of them with a cup in hand.

Bags hung under Reeve’s eyes and his suit was rumpled as if he had been sleeping in it. He greeted Tifa with a weak smile as he raised his mug to her.

“Good morning,” Reeve said. His whole posture was tense, from the white-knuckle grip on the mug to the way his other hand clenched the countertop as if his seat might drop him at any moment.

“Is it Cloud?” Tifa asked, not returning the greeting.

“I guess you did see the news last night… I asked them not to report yet…” Reeve said. Cid gave Reeve a sideways glance and sipped at his tea. “Tifa-”

“Is. It. Cloud?”

Reeve sighed and put his mug down. “Before you get upset…” Reeve began to reach for a flat device that laid before him - one of the fancier phones only Shin-Ra execs and other rich swells owned.

“Is he in a coma? Catatonic? Where is he?” Tifa demanded.

Reeve said nothing else as he opened up a picture on his phone and slowly turned it around to show Tifa the images he had captured. Tifa took the device from Reeve, holding it up close to her face.

“This can’t be real.”

“I’m afraid it is. I took these photos on site. I flew here with Cid all night because I wanted to beat you here before you heard it from… well, a news report.” Reeve let out a breath and reached over top of Tifa’s hands to swipe to the next photo. The first one had been at a distance, but the second one was up close, as if Reeve had gone right up to someone asleep and snuck a picture in early dawn light.

There, in the second photo, was Sephiroth. Eyes shut, face relaxed as though he slept peacefully, despite having untold blood on his hands. Smudges of dirt and Mako partially covered his cheeks and held down his silvery hair to his face, but there was no mistaking the man in the picture. Sephiroth was alive, somehow.

Reeve tried to grab his phone before Tifa threw it, but wasn’t fast enough, as the device went flying across the small house to shatter against the opposite wall.

“This can’t be fucking real!” Tifa screamed. “How the hell did he survive that?! He’s gone! Gone, gone, gone! Cloud destroyed him.  _ We _ all did!” Her whole body trembled; she turned and struck the dividing wall that separated the stairs from the kitchenette, leaving a plate-sized dent of chipped paint and shattered drywall where her fist had connected. Blood dripped off her knuckles and onto the floor, but Tifa just breathed heavily, not acknowledging the blossom of pain radiating from her hand.

Reeve lowered his shoulders and smoothed down his tie, trying his best diplomatic voice. 

“We’re trying to understand that,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. 

“Papa? What’s wrong?” called Marlene’s tired voice from the top of the stairs. Barrett excused himself and went to explain, while Tifa just stood and seethed.

“It’s not fair… it’s not fucking fair…” she whimpered. “Why is he still alive? After all we did to stop him? Why’s it him and not Cloud?” Feeling the adrenaline drain out of her, Tifa collapsed to her knees on the floor. Reeve and Cid rushed to help her up, steadying her as they guided her toward the couch.

“I promise, we’re working on that,” Reeve said again, gently tucking wild strands of hair behind Tifa’s ear. “Before I left, all the data we had on his body was that it was alive, but… there seems to be almost no brain activity.”

“If he’s braindead, why not pull the plug?” Tifa turned to Reeve, voice low and rough, her face stone and cold. “Let him die. It’s what Cloud deserves, at least.”

Reeve glanced over at Cid, then toward the stairs as Barrett came down with Marlene.

“That’s the thing… he’s not on life support. An on-scene med tech fed him a Potion and even though it looked like he had swallowed it -  _ actively _ \- there’s just… nothing there. We tried Materia healing, and it did nothing. His body isn’t injured. It’s like a husk.”

“What’s keeping him alive?” Tifa asked, though her voice did not suggest curiosity, only malice.

Reeve shook his head. “That’s what we’re working on. He’s at a secure location, and that… ‘round the clock care’ he’s been receiving has actually been a heavily armed guard unit. We’ve restrained his limbs - no telling if his body has any other motor functions to it - and there’s a heavy sedative drip in his arm to be activated at the first sign of trouble. One dose could knock out a Behemoth in seconds, and there’s about a hundred doses of it in there.”

Tifa looked over at Cid, then turned to look at Barrett and Marlene. Turning back to Reeve, she looked him deep in the eye and said:

“I want to see him.”

Reeve shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”

“If he’s playing possum, do you want guys with guns watching him, or someone who knows what he’s capable of?” she demanded.

Reeve swallowed and loosened his tie. “Tifa, look, I know these last months have been hard on you…”

Tifa stood up and put her back to Reeve, looking down at Cid. “You’re taking me there,” she said.

“I ain’t a damn taxi, woman. I don’t think it’s good for you to be there, either,” Cid replied, getting to his feet. “Look, I saw him go down, too, we all did. You think you’re the only one who misses him? Who don’t break shit every goddamned day, whether it be ‘cause of anger, or just needing to control  _ somethin’? _ You think you’re the only one in mourning? Fuck you, for that. We all love and miss that crazy bastard, no matter what his last moments were like. But it ain’t good for any of us to go flyin’ off the handle. This don’t feel like the time before. If Sephiroth’s alive somehow, but there ain’t nobody in there, how come there ain’t been, I dunno, one of his big uglies he likes to throw at us?”

“I don’t think he needs that opportunity,” Tifa replied, but her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her again. “I just… if he’s real, I want to make sure it’s actually  _ Him, _ not some clone or ghost. Not Jenova. I can’t deal with that again.”

Reeve cleared his throat. “Very well. I think you’d find a way to get to him without our help, so let’s just cut to the chase. I’ll bring you to him, if that’s what you really want.”

Tifa nodded, sighing in relief. “I do. If only to close this book, once and for all.”

Tifa stood by with Reeve, as the doctor on scene explained the various charts and graphs. She rubbed at her arms, feeling chilled through in the breezy warehouse serving as the “undisclosed location” Sephiroth was being held in.

“Sorry about the cold, miss, but this was the closest, uninhabited area that we could relocate him on short notice,” the tech said, pausing her explanations. 

“I’m from Nibelheim, but I think I spent too long in Midgar,” Tifa replied. She attempted to smile, but Reeve just gave her a sympathetic look.

The doctor adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. “I see. Well, Modeoheim was still the best option, being abandoned some time ago. Now, as I was saying… a full brain scan does indicate that Sephiroth’s brain waves are actually firing, he’s just… not in there, so to speak.”

“So he’s not dead, but he’s not alive, either?” Tifa asked, the chill going up her back having nothing to do with the building’s lack of heating.

“To put it frankly, it’s more like he’s a fresh computer. All the software’s installed, he’s ‘plugged in,’ more or less, but it seems like there’s no data. Like he’s been rebooted. I’m not sure, if he woke up, he’d even know how to talk.”

Tifa frowned, shaking her head. “So, you’re saying he’s a blank? An empty unit? What’s the point of keeping him here, then? Don’t you guys have some of those holding tanks like Shin-Ra used on their other monsters? Just put him on ice.”

“Tifa!” Reeve hissed, nudging her with his elbow. The doctor did not look impressed with Tifa’s callous suggestion, but she didn’t say anything else about it.

“Well, if I were the religious sort, I’d say he’s completely without a soul, but I used to work for Shin-Ra, too. It’s entirely possible to be a functioning human without a soul,” the tech said, turning from their location in the hallway to lead them to the end. At the end of the hall, four heavily armed guards stood at attention, each of them carrying a high powered rifle and several handguns on their persons.

A tent had been set up in the room the hall opened into, all plastic sheeting in layers obscuring the slumbering figure inside. Through the tent, Tifa could hear the beeps of the various machines Sephiroth was attached to, and her heart ached. This wasn’t right. If anything, it should be Cloud in there. Even if he was ‘a blank,’ Tifa had pulled him out of it before. But… her only connection to Sephiroth was what he’d done to her, her father, her village. Swallowing hard, Tifa rubbed across her chest, the scar there triggering a twinge of memory; she saw the silver blade arc through the dark reactor, felt it burn across her torso as she collapsed.

“I can’t do this,” Tifa whispered. “I might do something rash.”

Reeve took Tifa’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You said you wanted to be sure it wasn’t some clone… You’re the last person alive who saw him before… everything else. But, if you need time, we can come back-”

“No. Just…” Tifa rubbed her face with her free hand and took a deep breath. “I have to do this. For Cloud.”

Reeve nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, walking with Tifa into the tent. The first thing she felt was the sting of disinfectant as the smell made her eyes water. Giving her face a quick wipe, Tifa left Reeve’s side and slowly approached the gurney where Sephiroth laid.

Pale enough for some prominent veins to stand out from his skin, the light over the bed washed him out further, making him look more like a corpse than the photos Reeve showed her. A feeding tube fed down into this throat, and oxygen was being supplied through another. An IV was in both of his arms, which laid at his sides, palms up, with a heart monitor attached to his finger. Sensors for his body temp, circulation, breathing and other things that Tifa could only guess at dotted his torso, while two more sensors had been attached to his temples to monitor his brain. Tifa held her breath, feeling like any sudden movement might wake him and start the nightmares fresh.

“We compared the stats gathered here to what could be salvaged of Shin-Ra records, but it seems like whatever was on official file was falsified information,” said the doctor. Her sudden interruption made Tifa jump and turn around.

“Don’t do that!” Tifa hissed, feeling heat crawl up her neck. “It’s eerie-quiet in here.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve observed him for days, sometimes staying here just to see if something might change in the course of time, but he just lays there. He kind of reminds me of a puppet,” the doctor said. Bustling around Tifa, she manually tested his pulse with her fingertips, then circled the bed, recording the unchanged vitals to a clipboard.

“A puppet,” Tifa echoed. She looked at Sephiroth’s sleeping face, his closed eyes. “You called him that, once,” she said, inching closer. She put her hands on the railing his arm was strapped to, leaning closer. His eyelids fluttered slightly, as a normal person’s might while they were dreaming. “How dare you be here while he’s gone,” Tifa whispered.

“If you think talking to him will work--what are you doing?”

Tifa moved further down the bed, pulling down the blanket over his waist. “He should have a scar on his torso,” she said. Grabbing the bottom of the gown he was wrapped in, Tifa yanked the cloth back - and there it was. So white as to have almost no pigment of its own, almost twelve inches long and on his left side, the scar Cloud gave him years ago, in Nibelheim. She had barely been awake to see it, but she remembered him staggering from the chamber, Jenova’s head in one hand while the other clutched his bleeding body.

“It’s you.” Tifa felt sick, knowing that this really was the same man who had burned her home to the ground and left her to die.

Dropping the gown, Tifa felt anguish and sorrow and anger roil within her all at once. She turned and slapped Sephiroth’s face and started to scream.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU STAY GONE? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO COME BACK? WHY DID YOU TAKE HIM, TOO?” she screamed, swinging her arm to hit him again, when Reeve stopped her hand.

“Tifa!”

“It’s not fair!” she cried, struggling against Reeve’s hold. Turning away from the bed, Tifa buried her face in Reeve’s shoulder and sobbed again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Lockhart, but…” the doctor tugged on Tifa’s arm.

Turning around to see what the doctor was looking at, Tifa gave out a gasp. Sephiroth’s head had rolled to face her, his eyes open and staring, but vacant. The pupils were not dilated, nor contracting due to the light. He looked like a corpse, just staring at them.

“I don’t know how smacking and screaming at him made something change, but his eyes haven’t opened since we found him,” the doctor said, staring back at Sephiroth’s unblinking, unmoving expression.

Reeve let out a nervous chuckle. “I thought he was creepy when he was alive.”

“He  _ is _ alive, director.” The doctor gently touched his face, shining a pen light in each eye to check for a reaction. “I don’t get it…” she murmured. “I’m not one to bank on fairy tale magic, but maybe you managed to shake something in him…” Circling the bed, she observed his brain activity monitor. “…loose… activity is up. Like he’s coming back online, however slowly.”

“Because I hit him?” Tifa asked. She felt skeptical that she could have a magic touch - or slap - just because she’d lost herself in the moment.

“See for yourself. I don’t condone smacking patients - war criminal or otherwise - but perhaps contact…?” the doctor ventured, gesturing for Tifa to try her theory.

Tifa shook her head. “This is way too weird…” 

Approaching the bed, Tifa looked at Sephiroth’s eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest as a cold realization hit her. Gone was the Mako green stare she grew to hate; though the pupils had not changed, the color was one Tifa would know anywhere - his eyes were blue. Cloud’s blue. As she moved closer, it felt like they followed her, watching her with subtle twitches and focus. She placed her hand on Sephiroth’s cheek and his eyes twitched to follow the movement. As soon as she made contact with his clammy skin, Tifa pulled back, shaking out her fingers. 

“That’s freaky…” Tifa muttered.

“It’s remarkable…” the doctor gasped. “Somehow, you seem to have started his neurological connections back up. He may yet walk among the living.” Remembering who she was talking about, the doctor adjusted her coat and coughed. “O-of course, should such a thing occur, we have many options readily available, should he become violent.”

Tifa frowned at the implication that  _ she _ had anything to do with Sephiroth’s meager convalescence. Even if it was just his eyes being open and moving whenever she moved, she doubted that she really had anything to do with it.

Whatever the real reason was, it was beyond Tifa’s understanding. She just wished she knew why… “it” had turned Sephiroth’s eyes  _ that _ color. 


	3. Chapter 3

Night fell at the Modeoheim camp. A few WRO guards kept watch, but the area seemed suspiciously monster free. Not one to overlook a blessing, Tifa still managed to employ a few skills she had learned from AVALANCHE with a few tips from Yuffie. Sneak, distract, break in. A few tossed stones in just the right places turned heads in the opposite direction and away from her as Tifa crept closer to the warehouse where Sephiroth was left guarded.

Another quick misdirection allowed her to sneak into the back, and just a few lockpicking tricks later, Tifa got into the loading bay where the makeshift hospital sat. She stood just at the back “wall” of the plastic tent that served as Sephiroth’s room, listening and waiting.

The dim lights allowed Tifa the slightest cover, just enough for her to perhaps appear as a trick of the light, should a guard turn the wrong way. As she crept up to Sephiroth’s bed, the low light gave her an outline of where he was, and each monitor he was connected to. Keeping low, she carefully switched them off one by one, freezing any time she saw a movement from the silhouetted guards out front. They were chatting about something; the extra noise provided further cover as she stood over Sephiroth, looking down at his face. 

With the glow of machinery outside the perimeter, Tifa could make out the faint outline of medical tape and gauze - his eyes had refused to shut after their initial opening and had to be held closed. It was better that way, Tifa thought, that she didn’t feel watched, as she pulled the feeding and oxygen tubes out. She flinched as Sephiroth’s body convulsed at the sudden pull of the tube from his stomach, the image more horrifying in the dark than she had considered. Still, she had taken on this mission - not for herself, not even for Cloud - but for the sake of the Planet and its survivors.

Once the tubes were out and his airways clear, Tifa gently lifted Sephiroth’s head and pulled a pillow from underneath it. Steeling her will, Tifa gripped the pillow tight and held it up and over Sephiroth’s face, looking down at him. He laid there, peaceful and still, somewhere between alive and dead. Tifa’s mission was to push him into the latter category.

_ It’s now or never… he doesn’t deserve to be this peaceful… he should have just stayed in the Lifestream, where Cloud put him.  _ Tifa’s thoughts raced in time with the pounding of her heart - she wanted to kill him, smother the last vestiges of life out of him and let the Planet claim the remains. Reeve would know what she’d done, but he’d forgive her, right? Barrett, Yuffie… Cid… it would take time, but they would come around. She was never an assassin, but the risk of Sephiroth walking the Planet again was too much of a burden to bear.

Slowly, she brought her arms down, about to press the pillow over Sephiroth’s face when his mouth twitched. Freezing, afraid she had “activated” some other part of his mind, Tifa watched his lips form silent words, an endless stream of utterances without voice.

Without voice, until…

“...Cloud…” 

Tifa’s breath came faster and she trembled, body rigid with tension. So focused was she on the anger at Cloud’s name being uttered by a catatonic man that she almost missed the door slamming open at the end of the hall. 

“Has there been a power outage? The wireless signals from all the equipment cut out and we’re not receiving anything on him.”

Tifa recognized the doctor’s voice and dropped the pillow. She would have no time to put anything back or turn it all on, not with the doctor’s hurried pace.

“No, ma’am, it’s been quiet here,” replied a guard.

Ducking down low, Tifa inched back into the shadows as the doctor hit a switch on the wall outside the makeshift hospital room, flooding the area with light. She barely had time to creep under the plastic covering when the doctor started yelling at the guards outside.

“Someone broke in! All his monitors are off and his tubes are out! Search the grounds, immediately.”

“Ma’am!” The guards dispersed through the hallway, leaving Tifa, the doctor, and Sephiroth alone.

“Miss Lockhart, do come out of hiding.”

Tifa swallowed. Self preservation told her to just knock the doctor out and run, but what good would it do, if it was known there was an intruder? Slowly, she stood from her hiding spot and looked the doctor in the eye.

The doctor spoke first. “I can’t say I’m surprised, not after the little show you put on this afternoon. Honestly, I’m more proud of you for not killing him.”

“I could have done it.”

“Could you? Would you have lived with yourself, knowing you suffocated an unarmed man in a coma?”

“If it’s Sephiroth, yes.”

Sighing, the doctor shook her head. “You’d be plagued for the rest of your life, knowing what you did. I still have trouble sleeping, myself, and I only worked for Shin-Ra for five years.”

Tifa’s eyes widened. “Wh-what did you do for them?”

The doctor placed a hand on Sephiroth’s arm. Sparing a glance in his direction, Tifa noticed his lips were still moving, accompanied by occasional breaks of sound, but nothing so distinct as his first word.

“I’m a doctor, in license. But for Shin-Ra, I worked… disposal.” She looked over his face again, reached up and tucked a strand of his hair away from his mouth. “I’ve seen too many deaths in a bed just like this one. I joined the WRO to try to make up for everyone I… got rid of. And, if I have to include him in that, I will.”

Moving away from Sephiroth, the doctor put her hands in her coat pockets, looking over Tifa slowly, studying her. Under such scrutiny, Tifa felt like she was being scolded, even though nothing was said.

“I know your friend meant so much to you. We’ve all lost something because of what he did. But I can’t bring myself to kill anymore.” The doctor removed her glasses, placing them on top of her head as she approached. “Don’t do this to yourself, Miss Lockhart. You might have taken lives in the name of self-preservation - I know what Rufus tried to have you executed for. But, you’re not a killer. Not like that.”

Tifa shivered, feeling the fight leave her body again with the weight of the doctor’s words sank in.

“What should I do?”

“Mourn those you’ve lost, cherish the ones you still have. You’re still young enough to heal… much more than I can.” Turning, the doctor moved to start turning on the monitors once more. Unlike her busybody movements that afternoon, Tifa noticed she seemed tired now, moving slowly as she tended to her “patient.”

“Perhaps I’ll leave the feeding tube out for a while… see if he says something…” Glancing Tifa’s direction, the doctor replaced her glasses and fixed her gaze. “Did he say  _ anything _ , before I got here?”

Tifa rubbed at her arm, uncertain as to why the doctor cared, other than professional curiosity.

“He said… ‘Cloud.’”

As soon as the word left Tifa’s lips, Sephiroth echoed it back. Softly, but audible enough.

“Do that again,” urged the doctor.

Tifa frowned at her eagerness to wake the sleeping beast, but complied, saying Cloud’s name again.

Sephiroth groaned it back, and his head rolled to one side. His arms tensed up; the straps and frame holding him down groaned with the exertion. His back arched and his legs bent up, barely held down at the ankles by the straps. After a few moments of straining, Sephiroth fell back flat, out of breath. He resumed his wordless muttering, but otherwise, laid still.

“Seems like he’s coming to more quickly if you mention this… Cloud.” Reaching for one of the monitors, she pressed a button, printing out a long strip of paper and examining it carefully. “Even in spite of your attempt… his brain activity seems steady. Only a few blips in the last few hours.”

“All because of me, right?” Tifa bit her lip. If she was helping him get better, she was going to leave. Screw Reeve’s plans; she’d hitchhike back to Kalm if she had to.

“I’d say your presence is mostly coincidental. I don’t think there’s a pattern of behavior yet, but if you keep interacting with him, it may bring him around.”

Tifa shook her head. “Too bad. If he wants to wake up, he can do it without me. He’s a big boy.”

Sighing, the doctor tore off the printout and carefully folded it to attach to his file. “I can’t say I’m happy with your decision, but I respect that. Reeve has told me of your past; the fact that you’re here makes you quite extraordinary, Miss Lockhart.”

“I didn’t think an attempted murderer could be considered ‘extraordinary.’”

“Extraordinary because you didn’t kill him. I could have come in just a moment too late.”

Tifa’s spine stiffened as the doctor turned, leaving her behind with Sephiroth.

The quiet stillness of the room was unnerving. She could make out the heave of Sephiroth’s lungs as he strained for breath, each inhale punctuated with a chatter of teeth or the smack of his dry lips as he continued his soundless babbling.

Leaving the bedside, Tifa regarded him from the tent’s front, watching him for a moment.

“Cloud should be here. Not you.”

That night, housed in a bunk in one of Modeoheim’s abandoned houses, Tifa dreamed of blue and green eyed monsters, pulling at her arms and legs, trying to tear her in different directions. The green eyed ones were pulling her towards a light, but the ones with blue eyes tried to bury her alive. 

Waking in a cold sweat, Tifa was greeted with an empty bunk room, dull in the morning light. Sitting up, she rubbed the heels of her hands firmly against her face, trying to scrub the visuals out of her mind. As she fumbled for her clothes, Tifa pulled herself together to face the morning, trying to forget the feelings of blue-eyed creatures dragging her down into an abyss.

“Good morning, Tifa!” Reeve’s voice cut through the sounds of WRO workers as they milled around their morning tasks. “Almost a good afternoon,” Reeve continued, taking up space beside Tifa as she slipped into the rest of the line of WRO workers for breakfast.

“Sleep well?” Reeve pushed, as Tifa continued to not talk to him. “Dr. Mio told me that, um… her patient… had a little bit of a long night…” 

Tifa glanced sideways at Reeve before piling her paper plate with eggs and various meats. She continued to ignore him all through the breakfast line as she gathered her tray and carried it over to a pop up table and took a folding chair for herself.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why Sephiroth is suddenly sitting up in his bed, would you?”

Tifa’s plastic fork was halfway to her mouth when she dropped it onto her tray.

“He… he’s sitting up?”

Reeve turned a Styrofoam cup of coffee around in his hands. “Yes. Dr. Mio had found him this morning, sitting upright in bed. Still not communicative, but he was sitting up, muttering incomprehensible words and… well, she said he was staring, but his eyes are still covered, so I don’t know how she could tell.”

Tifa pushed the tray back, her appetite fading quickly. Reeve pushed it back towards her with a small nudge.

“Tifa, I’m not an idiot. Mio told me everything,” he said, dropping his voice. “You tried to kill him last night.”

“I didn’t succeed.”

“You didn’t get to fail, either.” Reeve sighed and put his cup down. “Look, I know you’re hurting, and a lot of it comes from him, but this can’t be how you handle it.”

“Seems like death doesn’t quite stick to him anyway,” Tifa huffed. She hugged herself, dipping her head down. “I don’t want anything else to do with him. I’m not going to be blamed if he ‘reboots’ and starts killing people again. If anything, Mio should be pumping him full of tranquilizers until his heart stops.”

Reeve closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “Tifa, this isn’t you talking. I know it isn’t. You’re in pain. We all-”

“Don’t. You don’t know anything. Not really.”

“I’m not saying he’s earned our forgiveness. I’m just tired of hearing you talk like…”

“Like what?” Tifa scowled at Reeve, locking eyes with him.

“Like Rufus Shin-Ra. You sound like you’d rather just execute your problems away instead of trying to fix whatever’s broken.”

Tifa stood up from the table to clear her uneaten breakfast. “I’m nothing like him.”

“You’re not behaving like  _ yourself _ , either.”

Tifa stopped by the garbage barrel, taking a deep breath and calming down before she started yelling. “I don’t know what ‘me’ feels like anymore, Reeve. It felt like the last bit of  _ me  _ fell with Cloud. I’m not just The Girl From Nibelheim anymore.”

Reeve stood up from the table, pulling Tifa into a sideways embrace. “We all lost something very special when he jumped. We’re all going to have unanswered questions. We’re all going to have doubts, and anger, and grief. But we also have each other.”

Tifa clenched her tray tight and tilted her head toward Reeve. He pressed a light kiss to her temple and rubbed her arm. “Thanks. Hard to remember most days, you know?”

“I know. Sit. Eat. I’ll contact Cid about getting you back to Kalm as soon as possible.”

Elsewhere in the Modeoheim camp, Dr. Mio monitored Sephiroth’s physical status. He sat upright in bed, arms pulled back by restraints, tipping forward like a gargoyle. His mouth kept moving in soundless mutterings, every so often punctuated with a pained groan.

“I don’t understand why you’re behaving like this,” Mio muttered. She pressed on his shoulders, trying to get him to lay down again, but every attempt that morning had been fruitless. It was not even as he resisted her - Sephiroth just  _ would not move _ . At least, not when she needed him to.

Circling the bed, she examined both of his arms, checking the wrists for signs of damage where the cuffs held him back. She also checked to make sure they were holding. Uncertain of what caused his bizarre behaviors, Mio did not want to find out that Tifa was right about him still being dangerous.

Just as she moved to secure the tranquilizer IV in his right arm, Sephiroth moved, swaying bodily in her direction until the limits of both restraint and his left arm kept him from going further. Mio stood back, holding her breath and watching Sephiroth’s face. He seemed to be repeating a single word in a breathy whisper, the movement of his lips reminding her something of a fish.

“What are you trying to say?” Mio asked.

“...ow……..ow……low………loud……”

“Cloud?”

As soon as she said it, Sephiroth started straining forward again, the cuffs on his wrists digging into his skin and leaving welts. He grit his teeth and hissed through them. One of the bars the cuffs were attached to bent and snapped, skittering across the concrete floor.

One arm free, Sephiroth leaned in the other direction, starting to pull on the other side; Mio hit the switch to the sedatives and backed away. As she watched, Sephiroth reached one hand outward, as if reaching for something. He wavered from side to side as he strained, the movements reminding Mio of a Zolom.

“Cloud!” he groaned out, and Mio couldn’t tell if it was from the pain of his arm being twisted back or what else went through his mind. As the sedative coursed through his veins, Sephiroth’s twisting, shaking motions became less erratic. His freed arm fell to the bed with a soft “thud” against the blankets and he slowly drooped down like a deflated balloon.

Feeling her heart pounding in her chest, Mio stood still, afraid to move forward just yet. He might have gone limp, but less than twenty four hours before, Sephiroth had shown no signs of life.  _ Something _ had woken him up.

Minutes dripped by like hours before Mio took the chance and approached Sephiroth’s draped form. She lifted his head and checked his pulse at his throat. Alive, but much more sluggish. In fact, Sephiroth’s whole body felt like a dense ragdoll as she eased him back into laying on the bed. His bottom lip trembled on his slack mouth; the gauze holding his eyes closed had come loose. They rolled back into his head so far that only the whites were showing.

“What is going on?” Mio murmured. She took out a pen light to try to see his eyes, but they remained rolled back, the lids fluttering and pulling from her fingertips as she tried to examine him. 

Frustrated by more questions, Dr. Mio turned to her machines, printing out all the data she could on what had just occurred. All his vital signs, which had been calm - if not still abnormally high - looked more like a chart from an earthquake than a human heart rate. His brain activity had fluctuated like tidal waves.

As she studied the data, the power in the warehouse flickered. Lights dimmed and grew brighter, bright as daylight, before dimming to normal levels.

“Great, that’s all I need…” Mio scoffed. “You… stay there,” she said, pointing at Sephiroth. He did not respond, but just commanding him made her feel a little better. She turned, walking out of the makeshift room and out to the hallway.

Flipping open her phone, Mio called security. “Bring them back in here. He broke a restraint. He needs constant monitoring now, even with techs in the room. Yes -  _ no _ , I’m fine. He didn’t do anything to me. No. He just… he said a name. Yes, that one. Whatever happens, don’t let Miss Lockhart leave. I need to speak with her.”

**Author's Note:**

> An ongoing reverse-verse that flips the place of the hero and the villain, and what evil and good mean in the grand scheme of things.


End file.
